I went for a run the other day. Remember when I told you how much I used to hate running? I don’t feel much different these days….. Anyhoo, twas a blustery day (said Pooh) and the fickle wind was picking up and dropping leaves willy nilly. It got me to thinking, as I am want to do when I run as I can’t seem to successfully run with a musical device.
How do the leaves feel about this wind treating them such?
Are they pleased to be blown about here and there at the discretion of the wind? Does it make them happy to float on the breeze? Does it remind them of when they were young and still attached to their parent tree/bush swaying in the wind? Do they dream of the places the wind will take them, the new leaves and plants and inanimate objects they will meet? Are they dreamers? Wishers? Travelers at heart?
Or are they grumpy old men? Hoping to stay on the same ground next to the roots of their origins. Irritated by the pushing and pulling wind that won’t ever just let them be. Homebodies at heart. Happy for the rain and snow and ice to weigh them down and speed up their decay. Angry at having to make new friends when they are swept from their pile without notice.
Yep, I’m anthropomorphizing them and I think it’s totally valid. Don’t you?
